“There was a man called Montague Hill,” she said hoarsely, “but he is dead. She sat, crouched together, by the corner of the hearthrug under the bookcase that supported the pig’s skull, and looked into the fire and up at Ann Veronica’s face, and let herself go. She spoke with fluent enthusiasm. ” Lucy said, mentally resolving to get to the Joliet Library as soon as possible to see the records Michelle had unburied.
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